Christmas will always hold a special place in my heart for a variety of reasons. There are the “good” reasons we are all told we should hold dear like family, togetherness, being close to religious beliefs. Then there are the “bad” reasons which can only be on thing for a child-presents!
Growing up in the ’90s, I’ve heard of this time long, long, ago where children only had one or two presents to open on Christmas. I’m still skeptical if such a time existed.
Growing up as a spoiled only child, only grandchild, and only nephew, Christmas was a multi-week endeavor for me. Presents took one of three categories: small, medium, or large.
Small presents started being handed to me in the weeks before Christmas, followed by a few medium ones. These presents were rarely wrapped, but the joy and surprise on my face was still there. Right before Christmas, I would be told I had gotten all of my presents, and there would be no more.
I never believed this. I was given these idle threats year after year, and by the grace of Santa, a stockpile of gifts would appear beautifully wrapped and decorated nestled under the tree.
These presents are where the real fun began-but not for the reasons you would expect. No, as I’ve grown up, I have realized that I cannot even remember what gifts I was given. What I can remember was spending time with my family playing with them, opening them, assembling them. The thing that sticks out in my mind first was the sheer look of joy on their face because I was happy opening these presents.
Five years ago, I never thought I would be saying these things, but I guess we all grow up at some point. I’ve learned that presents are just the byproducts of special Christmas memories. I know this because I buy presents for my family now. The funny thing is, I think that I get more joy out of watching them open them than they do using them.
It’s funny how perspectives change growing up, and how Christmas always has the tendency to bring out the best in people. I never intended this writing to be a sappy account of my journey to enlightenment, and I hope it’s not.
For me, it is more of a battle cry. Spoiled kids of previous generations should unite and continue spoiling their subsequent generations so they too can have the same revelations growing up.